


Fourteen

by notjustmom



Series: The Boys in Sussex [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, M/M, Retirement, Sussex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom





	1. Chapter 1

Gertrude yawned as she entered their bedroom, then stopped short as she noted the bed was strewn with books and papers, not just on Sherlock's side, as expected, but also on John's, her usual sleeping place. She gave them what only could be called a petulant, slightly aggrieved glance and stalked over to the rug, curled up in a ball and went to sleep.

John murmured, "Some days Gert reminds me of your brother, just that exasperated look she gives us sometimes, as if she doesn't know why she bothers..."

"Hmm..." Sherlock mumbled.

John turned the page of the scrapbook he was going through and whistled. "Damn." It was a larger photo, a close up of a teenage Z holding Grace, who couldn't have been more than a year old. Z had that almost a man look about him, and Grace was playing with his tie, the love they had for each other, even then was obvious in their eyes.

Sherlock looked over at John and closed the book he was studying. 

"Did your parents ever keep a scrapbook for you and Mycroft?" John asked suddenly, in a quiet voice that Sherlock couldn't recall ever hearing before. "I don't ever remember seeing photos of Harry and me anywhere in our house, not on the walls, or even in albums. Did you -?"

Sherlock nodded. "Our parents, my dad, especially, took photos of everything, and they'd bring them out at holidays and see how much they could embarrass us. Mycroft had the house packed up when they died, maybe he knows where they are - if it's important -" Sherlock stopped and took the album from John's hands and carefully closed it, then placed it on the side table, and moved to take John into his arms. 

"Tell me about them?" John whispered into Sherlock's neck.

"Our mum, if she had been a man, would have ruled the world singlehanded, she was intense, brilliant, stubborn as hell, she still managed to become one of the leading mathematicians of her generation; she would spend days on a problem, and the light that came into her eyes as the solution came to her was one of the most beautiful - she was one of the loveliest people I've ever known, but when she was at work, she became something more. She wanted Mycroft and me to be different, she wanted us to have friends, and be less driven than she was, but we are our mother's sons. Our father was the sweetest man I've ever known, he was a don, English Lit, loved C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, would read us stories at bedtime, he made them just - leap from the page, all the characters, he loved them, loved sharing them with us -" Sherlock looked down to find John fast asleep. "They would have loved you, John, simply because they would know just from looking at you, how much you love me." He carefully pulled out his laptop from the piles of papers and notebooks on the bed, and wrote to Mycroft.

 

From: sholmes@bliss.uk  
To: mholmes@govt.uk

 

I don't know if you remember, but mum kept a bookcase full of scrapbooks in their bedroom - do you know where those ended up? John would like to see them.

-S

 

Mycroft sighed as he opened the email, and put his drink down. He walked over to a small, somewhat out of place bookcase in his library and knelt in front of it, there were twenty books. There would have been more, but after their parents' deaths, Mycroft rarely took photos, and Sherlock had disappeared shortly after their nana's death two years later...he pulled out the last book, from the year before their parents had died, he was 20, Sherlock was a grumpy, thin as a rail thirteen year old, but, when their father took photos of him, he managed to smile, the light was there, in his eyes still, even as their mother ruffled his dark curls into disarray.

"Mummmm..." Sherlock had sighed a bit peevishly, but good-naturedly, his voice hadn't yet broken, and his lisp made speaking intolerable for him, but their mother always had a way with him, she knew how to take him out of his thoughts, and she could always manage to make him smile. Mycroft had stood behind, a good foot taller than both Sherlock and their mum, and their father said something ridiculous to make all of them laugh at just the right moment. He ran his fingers over the fading images, wondering what they would be like if - Damn. Sentiment. Before - before Sherlock had to leave, no, it had happened the moment he watched Sherlock interact with John in the Baker Street flat. He knew, even though he had never had feelings for someone, 'a goldfish' as Sherlock had prodded at him upon his return, he understood that Sherlock had changed, was more fragile, vulnerable, yet, he seemed stronger at the same time, he had a reason to stay clean, a reason to keep getting up even on those days when he didn't want to, simply because of the smaller, but somewhat sturdier former doctor/soldier's appearance in his life. From that moment, he had wondered, what it would be like to know that someone cared for him, simply because he was as he was. Not for his power or considerable wealth, but because they found something lovable, perhaps even a bit human...

"Myc?" Lady Smallwood was kneeling next to him. he didn't know how long she had been there, but her slightly worried expression indicated she had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

"Sorry. I - Sherlock emailed, asking if I knew where the scrapbooks were. I - guess - I had forgotten, Ali - what we were - I was - Sherlock -before. Damn. I haven't looked at these books since I moved them over here when I packed up the house. I couldn't before. Now - "

"Why don't we take a weekend and take the books down to them, even if it's just overnight, I know you've missed him - you have. I'll call him tomorrow, and see how this weekend will work out. Yes?"

Mycroft nodded and Lady Smallwood smiled softly at him and kissed his cheek. "It's alright, to have feelings, Myc, it is permissible to be human, even you, are allowed to have times when someone else helps you to carry whatever burdens you bear. I'm here to help, if you let me, love. Let me, help, Myc."

"I - I love you."

She smiled at him and nodded. "I know, Myc. I've known a long time, just took you a bit of time to process the data, I think? Why don't you email Sherlock, let him know to expect my call tomorrow?"

Mycroft blinked at her, and slowly got to his feet with her help. He tucked the book under his arm and kissed her gently. "I do love you, so very much. Thank you -"

She rolled her eyes and whispered, "You don't know, Myc, - what it means - to know that it was me of all people who finally melted the Iceman...that you find me, at least attractive enough, you could have anyone - and yet..."

He stared into her silvery blue eyes and blinked. "You, I've - ever since the first day you barged into my office fifteen years ago - you were on fire, you wanted my head on a platter - I'd never - no one had ever - just you, Ali. Only you."

"Damn. You Holmes boys - does the term 'slow burn' mean anything to you?" She laughed at the blank look on his face. "It just means, you know how to carry your love in silence for a very long time, my love."

 

Mycroft kissed her once more as she fell asleep tucked tightly against his side, then picked up his laptop.

 

From: mholmes@govt.uk  
To: sholmes@bliss.uk

 

I have located them. If it is convenient, we would be happy to bring them down to you this weekend. Alicia will call you tomorrow to make plans if that is acceptable.

-M

 

Sherlock smiled at his brother's rather quick reply, then sent off a brief response, and turned off the light.

 

From: sholmes@bliss.uk  
To: mholmes@govt.uk

 

That is most acceptable. We look forward to seeing both of you. The weather is quite changeable these days, make sure to leave the bespoke suits at home.

-S


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock."

"Lady Smallwood, how lovely of you to call."

John rolled his eyes, but he could hear Lady Smallwood's burble of laughter from Sherlock's phone.

"Drop the formality, Sherlock, you and I know far too much about one another for that."

"True, Alicia, we do, don't we?" Sherlock paused, and took a breath. "Apologies, that was uncalled for."

Lady Smallwood blinked then cleared her throat. "We were hoping to come down Saturday morning. perhaps in time for elevenses? Then stay the night, if you have the room?"

"Of course, we have plenty of room, we're delighted you are able to visit us. Seriously, we are looking forward to seeing both of you."

"Thank you, Sherlock. Saturday, then."

"Lady Smallwood."

Sherlock ended the call and sat quietly for a moment. "I wonder why Mycroft and Lady Smallwood's impending visit feels, I don't know..."

"Like inviting disaster?" John grinned at him and reached across the table to take Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock shrugged. "I just want him to understand, I'm not, what or who I used to be, I -"

"He'll see you, Sherlock, just give him a chance, I know it's hard. It's different than with my mum and Harry, they were unknowns to you, you could simply be who you are, you had no history with them, with Myc, you know him, or at least you think you do. Perhaps just try to remind yourself, he has also gone through changes recently, he has a goldfish, after all, and is essentially bringing her to visit the family. You, we are his family, he is probably just as nervous as we are, if not more so."

 

"There, done."

"It's not that simple."

Lady Smallwood sighed as she put her mobile down and rolled over to face him. "No. Because you two are two of the most brilliant, stubborn, yet loving people I've ever known, and you have found ways, remarkable ways to hurt one another. He has found a way to be at peace with his life, to make John and his happiness a priority, and you are -"

"I am - what exactly am I, Ali?" Mycroft moved closer to her, nuzzling her neck gently.

"A royal pain in the arse, at times, damnnnnn, Myc, but, you love him, and you want his happiness, yes? You're afraid it's too late, that he won't be able to let his guard down around you. You want to know the person he has become, but -"

Mycroft pulled away from her slightly and searched her face for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. "I - I've made a lot of mistakes with him, Ali -"

"As has he with you. There were years you weren't sure he was going to make it, and he knows how much pain he's caused you, because he couldn't deal with - well, honestly just being alive some days. And he knows that you never quite understood that, because the two of you deal with life so differently - what?"

"I remember, Sherlock said to me, 'I like Lady Smallwood, she's even smarter than you are, should be interesting...' I'm beginning to realise just how right he was."

"He's a smart lad, your brother. Now, we don't have be into work until -"

Mycroft looked at his mobile, and rumbled, "Anthea won't be here for another three hours...we could work on that proposal regarding the -"

"Or, we could..." Alicia took his mobile from him and grinned at him, "ignore the rest of world for the next two hours and concentrate on something a bit more on the domestic front, like...."

"Damn, Ali...." Mycroft sighed as she pushed him into the pillows and briefly wondered why he thought sentiment was such a disadvantage, before he quickly lost any train of thought that dared to enter his mind, as she gently and thoroughly took him apart, piece by piece, then lovingly put him back together.

"If there was any doubt before, Myc, I do love you, too, my dear."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock sighed as he slumped into the chair next to Z, Gertrude and John had gone over to the library to talk to Roberta after tea, and Sherlock begged off, not ready to be sociable that afternoon.

"My brother and his - 'goldfish' are coming for a visit tomorrow -"

Z turned and raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Goldfish?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "My brother has always seen himself as a big fish in a rather tiny bowl, those of lower importance or intelligence, he sees as 'goldfish.' Lady Smallwood was one of my last big clients, it was on that case that -"

"Yes, I remember." Z murmured, and waited for Sherlock to go on.

"She has been a colleague of Mycroft's for as long as I can remember, she hired me because she believed I could help her, discreetly - it was not a case I would have taken before - but, I was - it was not a good time - John had just married, and I believed -" Sherlock looked down at his hands and bit his lip, then began again. "I believed I had nothing to lose, because -"

"I know. You've never quite dealt with this, really, have you? No, I know, you never blamed Doc, you wanted him to be happy, and Mary seemed perfect for him, everything you were and weren't - you blame yourself because you didn't see - you chose not to see."

Sherlock whispered, "I should have never taken that case, I thought if I kept taking cases, John would stay, and as it turned out, he did, eventually. When I came back from, being gone - I just wanted to go home, and start over, as it had been before, but, he wasn't there, he hadn't understood, didn't believe in me enough." He sat up and looked at his friend. "If I had told him, he wouldn't have been safe, if I had taken him with me - there was no guarantee we'd make it back, and if, if he had -"

Z leaned over towards him and laid a soft hand on his cheek. "You did what needed doing, Sherlock. He knows that. As I told him, you fought your own war, and you paid for it enough already, son. Remember when he gave you those -" Z poked at the dog tags that Sherlock wore, no longer hidden under his shirt. "I'm sorry all this is coming back up on you, but, remember, you are loved, Sherlock. I don't know your brother, but I should think he is proud of what you've made of yourself. I haven't known you all that long, but, if you were my son or brother, as it is, you are my nephew after a fashion - I couldn't be prouder. You bring that brother of yours and his, hmm, 'goldfish' for one of Gladys' teas - if I recall from one of John's stories, he's a bit fond of cake?"

Sherlock laughed out loud. "A bit, yes, and if she makes that Victoria Sponge that she made for Grace, he may never leave." He looked into Z's eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Z."

"No, Sherlock, thank you for bringing them home to me, for giving us all another chance. Give him that same chance, hmmm?"

"I will, Z."

 

"Don't you have any running clothes, or anything off the rack, heaven forbid, a pair of sweats?" Lady Smallwood yelled from the depths of Mycroft's walk in closet. "Anything?"

"Can't think of why I would even consider owning such things." Mycroft sniffed as he was catching up on some last minute things before they left the next morning.

Lady Smallwood emerged from the closet, her hair a mess and her face bearing an expression that indicated she would not take kindly to any backtalk. "We - I am taking you to get you proper clothes. Now. Turn off that damned thing, get your shoes on, the shops close soon, and you will not embarrass your brother and his family tomorrow. Up. Now."

Mycroft groaned internally, but did as he was told, without a word.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft rolled over to pick up his mobile. "I need to order a car for tomorrow, we should leave around 7:30 to make it in time for tea? It's been a while since I've driven -"

Lady Smallwood closed her book, took off her specs and studied his face before speaking. "You are going to drive?"

"Well, how would it look to the locals if I had a namby-pamby driver chauffeuring us there?" Mycroft grinned at her. "I mean, you made me purchase shorts and t shirts, a rain parka, wellies, at least you are 'allowing' me the one pair of proper trousers and a jacket, but off the rack," he huffed at her, but couldn't keep the humour from his eyes.

"Sherlock did say it was 'bloody hot' some days and raining 'cats and dogs' on alternating days. Just want you to be prepared. Hmmm better make it for seven. You know, it will be alright, it's just overnight, you've put up with Putin for how long - it's just your -"

"My brother, Ali. He's one of the most important people in my life, and I don't have a clue who he is anymore, perhaps I never did."

"I think you know, Myc. At heart, he's that kid brother who always chased after you to play with him - and you did. You told me how you got this scar -" She ran a finger over a slight blemish on his chin. "Pirates, wasn't it?"

Mycroft sighed. "Wooden sword, caught me off guard - he was afraid to play after that - afraid - he would hurt me, again. I need to make the call, Ali."

 

"Yes. Good evening, I need a car for tomorrow morning, for seven? No, I don't need a driver. Yes, Yes, I'm sure. Thank you."

 

"What?"

"She didn't quite laugh, I believe she was afraid she'd get fired if she did, but I'm sure she lost it after I ended the call."

"How long has it been, Myc."

"Hmm?"

"How long since you've driven a car?"

"Dozen years or so...I think."

Lady Smallwood looked at him and burst into laughter. "Oh, Myc, it will be an adventure, won't it? Come here, love, you need to sleep." She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and kissed him softly until she felt him relax against her, and tumble into a heavy sleep.

 

"Love?"

"Hmmm?"

"You need to rest. They'll be here in a few hours."

"I can't."

"Sherlock. Tell me, how can I help?"

Sherlock closed the ledger he had been blankly staring at for the last hour, and put it aside. He laid down next to John and buried his face into John's chest. 

"Love?"

"I can't turn it off, John. I - all the times when I've - I - don't know how to make it up to him, John."

"Look at me. Sherlock. Eyes on me. You can't change the past, no one can. What you can do is let him see how content you are now. How happy you are - you are happy here, love?"

Sherlock sat up and stared at him. "John - can't you - don't you see -?"

John smiled at him and pushed a curl from his eyes. "Of course I do. If you just let yourself be the person you are now when your brother is here, he will know. I know it's hard to let go of the old hurts, love, if anyone would know -"

"It would be you." Sherlock laid back down and John held him lightly in his arms. "I know I'm being silly, but sometimes I feel like I've never quite grown up when he gives me 'that' look."

"Sherlock, I don't have to show you a mirror, do I, love? Look in my eyes and tell me -"

"John - I know, in my head, I'm very well aware that I just turned forty. I know this - but he just - ohdamnnnnn - that - what was that - again, please?"

 

Mycroft watched as Lady Smallwood threw two small bags into the back seat, next to the two boxes of albums. He had thought the first ten albums would be enough to share with them, and in case things didn't work out -

"Stop it. Now. Worry more about your driving, please. Myc. Look at me. Breathe. We have time to stop for a coffee half way there, I have it planned out - all you have to do is focus on driving."

"I feel half dressed." Mycroft griped as he started the car.

"Nope. I know what you look like half dressed. Shorts and a t shirt amounts to fully dressed. You're just feeling a bit vulnerable without all that armour you hide behind. It's one thing to be strong in front of your political enemies and friends alike, it's your brother, Myc. Not a post Cold-War combatant."

"I know how to deal with those."

"Just drive, Myc."

 

"Hell."

"What?" John stopped typing and got up to walk to the doorway.

"He drove them himself, and they made it here in one piece."

"Don't start -"

"And - she - not a thread of bespokeness in sight. Oh, I do like her, she has -"

"Sherlock." John put on his quiet warning voice.

"Lady Smallwood."

"Alicia, please, Sherlock. John, lovely to see you again."

"I'll help him with the luggage." Sherlock grinned at John and went off to find his brother.

"They'll be fine." John blinked at Alicia as they spoke at the same time.

 

"How was the trip?" Sherlock asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Good. Traffic was surprisingly light for a Saturday. We did leave at seven, so missed a bit leaving town."

"Good. Listen. I need to say something to you, and I may as well do it here, while we have a bit of privacy. Just let me get through this, I've been trying to get it right in my head for the last couple of days - and I'm not sure - okay. Here it is. I'm sorry. And I know that's not enough. I - I've had a lot of time to think over the last few weeks, about how we - how hard it is for us to just talk. Be around one another. It's a bit different than what John had to overcome with his family, he hadn't seen them for years, you and I have had this continuous silent war, I guess I'd have to call it, if I'm honest - no wait. Please. I know you sometimes still see me as someone who needs to be rescued, and I haven't needed that since Serbia. Sorry - that was -"

"No. You're quite correct. I still see you as the eighteen year old who barely made it to nineteen. I kept thinking if I just - I don't know, if I tried - hard enough, one day, it would get better between us. The harder I tried - the worse -"

Sherlock sighed and laid his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You know, you should know that was my fault, I - always - you never seemed to need anything, Myc, or anyone, and I tried - I tried to be like that, because it seemed like it would be easier, better, it wouldn't hurt so much. It took me a long time to realise it's not easier, and it hurts more not letting people in, not allowing anyone to get close to me - and I blamed you - unfairly - perhaps, for how long it took me to tell John - it took him dying, Myc, nearly in my arms before I understood how much I had missed not taking a chance. Can we try - just for a couple of days - she's something else. Alicia - uhm, Lady Smallwood. She took you out last night and made you buy new clothes for the weekend, didn't she?"

"Down to the trainers." Mycroft snorted and finally turned to look at his brother. "I am sorry, brother mine," he whispered softly.

"Come on, let's get the luggage, and we'll make it just in time for tea." 

Mycroft nodded and got out of the car and stretched, then looked around. "Damn. Sherlock - it's beautiful here."

Sherlock looked up and smiled at him. "Yeah, some days I almost have to pinch myself to know it's all real. Oh, the albums -"

"I brought the earlier ones, hope that's enough to start with, they were - the happier ones, I thought."

"Thank you, Myc." Mycroft studied his brother's face and understood he was being thanked for more than just the photo albums.

"You're quite welcome, Sherlock."

Sherlock blinked at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Gladys puts tea on at eleven, we can all pile into the truck if that's not too -"

"I think I can handle it, Sherlock, look at how I'm dressed."

Sherlock laughed, then smiled at him again. "Welcome to Bliss, Myc."


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Sherlock and Mycroft entered the kitchen, it was obvious that Gertrude had already discovered a new friend, and not simply in the, "I will sit by your chair, and gaze at you adoringly from afar." No. Lady Smallwood was sitting on the kitchen floor, giving Gertrude a belly rub, and Sherlock would have sworn she was positively purring; Gertrude, not Lady Smallwood.

"I - I had a yellow lab, as a child - she's perfectly lovely - did she come with the house?"

Sherlock grinned at her, and gave Gertrude a look. He could have sworn she shrugged at him in some way. "She was waiting for us, I think, weren't you, girl? Time for tea -" And with that, everyone piled into the truck, John gave up his front seat to Mycroft, who gratefully accepted.

 

John led Mycroft and Lady Smallwood to the porch, where Z was in his usual spot. "Mr. Holmes." Z stood up and took Mycroft's hand in his. "Mycroft, this my uncle, Zachariah Moses."

"Uncle?"

John looked down at Sherlock who gave him that 'oops' look, then turned back and explained, "My mother, Grace, is Z's sister. She left town in her twenties with the man who would become Harry's and my father. She hadn't been back until last weekend."

"I see. I am very glad to meet you, Sir. I am pleased that John and Sherlock have family here." Mycroft moved to sit in the chair next to Z and sighed. "What a beautiful spot. I understand that you were the village doctor?" At that moment, Gladys came through the door.

"Ah, just in time for tea, and I made the Victoria Sponge, as you suggested, Sherlock."

Mycroft sat upright and whispered, "Victoria Sponge?"

"Best I've ever had, Myc." Sherlock grinned at Lady Smallwood, who rolled her eyes, as she followed Mycroft through the front door.

"I may never get him to leave tomorrow."

Sherlock winked at Z as he and Gertrude made their way up the stairs and into the house.

"Well, tea will be interesting," Z muttered to himself as he got to his feet and went inside.

 

Sherlock sat back in his chair and let the voices fall around him, Lady Smallwood managed to surprise him with her storytelling skills - she told Gladys and Z stories from her time 'in the field,' and 'names were changed to protect the not so innocent-' he opened his eyes to see his brother smiling at him, as he studied him. He wondered what he saw. He couldn't see many changes as he gazed at the face in the mirror each morning, but he knew there had to be something different about him, it wasn't possible that what he felt inside hadn't somehow migrated in some small way to what he showed to the outside world. He excused himself and walked out on to the porch and wasn't surprised to find Mycroft not far behind.

"Sit?"

Mycroft nodded. They sat in the chairs and looked out on the peaceful day. Sherlock waved to Davey, on his way back to work after his tea, and to Phil as he was loading a truck. "You have found peace here. It's in your face, you are certain of the things that matter to you, when you look at John, at Gladys and Z, how you are able to sit quietly and just be in a space with them. You don't wonder if you are loved, you know that you are. I know the look in your eyes, it was there when you were a child, I never thought I'd be permitted to see it again. You are a very fortunate man."

Sherlock looked over at his brother and nodded. He caught a glimpse of Lady Smallwood in the sitting room, the room in an uproar, over yet another one of her stories. "I hope you recognize how fortunate you are yourself. She is quite unique, and she loves you very much."

"You - approve?"

Sherlock laid his hand over his brother's and gave it a light squeeze. "It matters to you? What I think of her? Oh, Myc. Does she make you happy? Does your pulse change when you feel her near you? Does she make you think, make you laugh? If you love her, nothing I could say should stop you. As it stands, I appreciate that she loves you as you are, but is willing to encourage you to take risks, you are a better man for it, Mycroft."

 

Mycroft and John were out on the evening walk with Gertrude, leaving the washing up to Sherlock and Lady Smallwood. "Somehow I knew you would be able to find a brilliant Thai place this far out of London."

Sherlock grinned at her then turned on the dishwasher. "We passed by it on our way here, we are just inside their delivery range."

"Myc told me what you said after tea on the porch."

"Sit? One last glass of wine?" She nodded and took two glasses down from the cupboard. He poured two small amounts, handed one to her and took a sip of his, then waited until she seated herself, before sitting next to her.

"He had guessed early on my feelings for John. I think he understood far more than I had. When I had to leave, he tried to convince me to tell John the plan. I couldn't. I didn't think John would allow me to go through with it, or he would insist to go with me. Either way would have put him into danger. I know now that I should have let him know that I was still alive. It would have prevented much of what followed, I think - if I had listened to Myc - all I'm trying to say is that if you are willing to put up with him and make him smile even more than Gladys' Victorian Sponge did today, you have my blessing Alicia, and best of all, we have snaps of Mycroft Holmes in shorts." Sherlock smiled at her, then finished his wine. "Seriously, I've never seen him happier, Alicia. Thank you for that."

"Thank you, Sherlock, you don't know what it means to both of us. I promise -"

"No. Don't promise, just love him, he deserves that. I'm off to bed. Night."

"Night, Sherlock."

 

"I've never seen the sky look like this - honestly - I don't spend much time gazing at night skies, and in London, the lights..."

John nodded and waited.

"Is he, truly happy here?"

"What do you see, Myc?"

"He's someone I don't know. No, that's not true, he's the person I'd always hoped he'd become - remember that one snap in the album we looked at this afternoon - the one you stopped and looked at for the longest time?" John nodded. "He was eight, right before he started school, there's a light in his eyes in that photo, it was the last time I saw it until today, when we arrived here. I never did thank you for going back to Baker Street, when he needed you. I am sorry it took so long for -"

"Myc. There were many reasons for why it took us so long to get here. And yes, we have days when the past bites us hard in the - we still have bad nights, but the good ones outweigh the bad; we know how to cope now, and I love him in ways I don't even understand myself enough to explain it to you. I'm not afraid to love him with everything I have, Mycroft. Before, I couldn't have done that - I had too much -"

"Baggage?"

John turned and grinned at him. "Precisely. We are learning how to be together just the two of us, but somehow, that involves finally recognizing the families that got us here. We realized we had to make peace with our pasts before we could grow into what we are. Geez, that sounds romantic, doesn't it?" 

Mycroft laughed. "You know you never had to woo him. He was always yours."

"Yeah, I know, Mycroft. Thank you, for bringing him home to me - I know I let him down - you know it won't happen again."

"I know, John. Is it usually this bright?"

John shook his head. "No, most nights it's been cloudy, the sky is showing off for you tonight." After a moment of quiet, John murmured, "Ready to head back?"

"Yes, John. Thank you."

John whistled for Gertrude and they walked back to the farm in a comfortable silence.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sherlock - are you okay?" John rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock in bed looking at one of the early photo albums.

"Yes, I'm fine, just - "

John got undressed and slipped into bed next to him. "It's been a good day, love. I'm so proud of you, and -" He looked at the page Sherlock had his hand on and whispered, "they would have been proud of you too. I'm sure of it." He lifted the book gently from Sherlock's hands and placed it on the table.

Sherlock stared down at his empty hands and mumbled, "John. I don't remember crying."

"Hmmm?"

"I don't remember crying - don't you think I'd remember that?"

"I don't know, love."

"I loved them so much, and then they were gone. How do I not remember crying for them, John?"

"Come 'ere." 

Sherlock wrapped himself tightly around John then tucked his face into John's neck and wept silently. Slowly, John threaded his fingers into his curls and understood words were unnecessary, simply his presence was all Sherlock needed.

 

Lady Smallwood watched Mycroft's face as he sat at the table next to her. "You're shivering, are you cold? Do you want a cuppa?"

"No. When we were walking Gertrude, I looked up at the sky, and realized I hadn't seen the stars before, not really. I pride myself on my ability to see, to observe - and yet, I hadn't -" He looked into her eyes and nodded. "Sherlock, he told me you loved me - and you've told me, in so many ways, and yet, I was afraid to look and know. There - the way you're looking at me now. Like I'm an idiot. I just - I've never thought -"

"Myc. It's not about thinking." She finished her glass of wine, then got up and rinsed it out, and put it on the counter. She turned and faced him, giving him her hand. "Come to bed, lovely idiot of mine."

 

Sherlock sat up and wiped his eyes. "I want to thank you, John. The last few weeks, the last few months. I feel as if, you - we - ever since - damn."

"I know - me too."

Sherlock shook his head and managed to grin at him. "You do know." He gazed into John's eyes and nodded. "You really do," he whispered. "I love you, so very much, John Watson." He laid back down and curled up into John's arms. It never ceased to amaze John how Sherlock managed to fit, how they fit together in all the ways he never thought he would with another person; again, he realized how much he loved the brilliant, gorgeous man in his arms.

"I wish there were words that meant everything you are to me -" John sighed as he looked down to find Sherlock fast asleep. "I love you, too, my heart." He kissed his curls and switched off the light.

 

"What the -" Mycroft sat up In bed and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock, sleepyhead."

"Is that a tractor?"

"Matilda."

"Matilda?"

"Tea." Lady Smallwood carefully placed a mug in his hands. "When you're done, get dressed and come out to meet her."

 

Mycroft watched in stunned silence from the doorway as Sherlock hopped down from the tractor.

"What do you think, Myc?"

"If I hadn't seen those photos last week, I'd have thought I'd need to get my eyes checked. She's beautiful, Sherlock."

Sherlock grinned at him and asked a bit shyly, "Want to go for a ride?"

Mycroft looked back to see Lady Smallwood sipping her tea at the kitchen door, she smiled at him and he rolled his eyes at her, then turned back to grin at his brother. "Yeah, Sherlock, I'd love to."


End file.
